A Veterans' Day Look Back
by GalaxieGurl
Summary: Booth and Brennan travel to Viet Nam on Veterans' Day to bring identity and closure for men who died fighting there. In the process, Booth resolves feelings about his father.


A Veterans Day Look Back

**A/N: This idea came to me early yesterday Veterans Day morning. I've taken some liberties making assumptions about military aviation in Viet Nam, but such license is permissible in Fan Fiction Land. Especially where heroes are concerned. Because Edwin Booth was a hero before he was a drunken dad ruined by PTSD.**

Booth and Brennan boarded the helicopter with mixed feelings. While they were pleased at their unusual chance to observe the lush Vietnamese countryside on their way to her latest dig site, they shared a somber mood brought on by the day upon which their flight was occurring. Veterans' Day was always significant to Booth; this one especially so.

Brennan had been asked to help with an exploratory excavation of several locations in the jungle where remains of American servicemen were thought to exist, based upon aviation wreckage found in the area. After years of unsettled feelings between the two former foes, quiet patient negotiations had finally proven successful, and North Vietnam was not only allowing American forensic teams to search for MIA service members, but also assisting in the efforts.

The burnt charred markings on the time-worn metal of several downed jet aircraft identified them as USAF Sqn 36. Booth had no specific information about where the 36th Air Force Squadron had flown their missions in 1975, but he knew from talking to Pops that it had been his father's unit. When the request for Dr. Brennan's expertise was made, she knew that her husband needed to join this project to identify human remains found near the wreckage. It could give him some insight about his father's military service and closure regarding his recent death. A fitting mission for Veterans' Day.

Booth had long ago convinced his wife that he would much rather accompany her on her treks around the world than stay home stewing about her safety. Angela and Hodgins were trading off with Daisy and Oliver, Cam and Arastoo, Wendell and Andie, Aubrey and Jessica to care for young Hank and Christine during their parents' three-week absence. Far from being confused by their musical-chairs overnight stays with some, and fun daytime activities with others, the Booth children were so familiar and comfortable with the Jeffersonian staff members that they were enjoying the varied experiences immensely.

Little Seeley was a great video game companion, Cam and Arastoo's three boys gave great piggy back rides and were teaching Christine the finer points of hockey, Andie's blueberry pancakes rivaled their dad's, and Aubrey _always_ had gummy bear packets in his pockets to share. The snakes and insects in Uncle Hodgins' garage laboratory were fascinating fun without their mom around to restrict access to the entomologist's furry, crawly, bizarre creatures.

As the helicopter whopped across the stunningly green landscape, Booth peered out the window at the tall trees, tangled vines and dense underbrush below. Somewhere down there, his father had been shot down during a medevac mission, suffering the shoulder injury that ended his military flying career.

_Zooming aloft in Thuds and Phantom Fighter Jets "through footless halls of air" across the "long delirious burning blue" there was nothing Booth's father had enjoyed more than flying his jet over Viet Nam despite the ever-present dangers of that war…_

Lt. Edwin Booth had volunteered to ride along on a helicopter into a particularly hot combat zone to serve as an extra gunner. He'd been debriefing his army counterpart in the communication tent after a particularly harrowing pre-dawn bombing run before breakfast one fateful day when he heard a crackling staticky desperate call for help. That emergency message suddenly became very personal.

His closest boyhood friend was pinned down under fire with his unit due to an ambush. The medical crews were already stretched thin by multiple simultaneous battles, so the harried medevac dispatch officer was short-handed and more than happy to accommodate a willing extra, if unorthodox, volunteer to join the rescue effort. The three choppers lifted off, heading southwest to assist Tony's 196th Infantry Brigade "Chargers" combat team.

The gallantly dogged, courageous group had been under attack all night but were finally gaining the upper hand against their well-concealed enemies. One of the Americans' toughest challenges was fighting men who knew the terrain as well as their own backyard (which it was).

Unfortunately, Viet Cong reinforcements arrived just after dawn and the conflict intensified once again. Several soldiers were so badly injured, the medics called for medical help and air support.

Protected by two Iroquois UH-1 gunships overhead, a Chinook C-47 were dispatched to insert fresh troops and evacuate the serious casualties. Trained in firearms use from boyhood, hunting with his Grandda Joe and father Hank, Edwin Booth was not only a skilled Air Force pilot but also a crack shot. Far in the future, his estranged son would continue the family legacy as a sniper.

But that morning, all Edwin knew was that he _had_ to take an active role in helping rescue Tony. He knew he'd catch serious flak from his superiors for going off on an Army mission but _friendship meant something; _everything to him. The two boys, growing up next door to each other, had sworn a secret blood and spit oath of friendship to each other that would have made their mothers grimace.

Tony joined the army; Edwin signed up for flight training, but the pair kept in touch, writing to each other more often than to their girlfriends back home. So when he heard the radio call come in, Edwin convinced the dispatcher and helo pilot to bring him along as a door gunner.

As they flew over the conflict, he picked off as many black-clad figures as the grizzled sergeant firing from the opposite open doorway.

"Damn, Booth! Why the he—did you join the Air Force? We coulda used your skills better here!" the man rasped from around the unlit cigar clenched tightly between his teeth.

"Flying has its place in combat, too, Sarge," his fellow Philadelphian replied between shots. "We can knock out the VC's fortifications real well from up there."

Suddenly a round from below pierced the rotor, and the helicopter lurched left before dropping into heavy bamboo overgrowth. The impact wrenched Edwin's shoulder as a bamboo stalk impaled his calf. The sergeant groaned as his head struck the heavy metal door frame.

The pilots yelled for them both to hang on, throttled the engines to their maximum power, and pulled the aircraft clear of the jungle. Somehow the Huey stayed airborne as its rear occupants resumed shooting the enemy. The moment the huge Chinook touched down, fresh infantrymen had jumped off and joined the fight. Once medics had loaded the wounded and strapped them in, the medevac chopper lifted off once again and headed back to base.

It wasn't until they landed, that Edwin and Sergeant "Stubby" Johnson noticed his injuries. Limping to sick bay, they were triaged, treated, and bedded down to await a physician's diagnosis. Three days later, Edwin had the first of several reconstructive shoulder surgeries, and found himself on the way back to Walter Reed. His commanding officer had been furious to lose one of his best pilots and tore "that cussed rebel Booth" a new one in no uncertain terms.

But his friend Tony Scascuto survived, and that was all that mattered to Edwin as he recuperated in the hospital. His now frozen shoulder precluded pivoting his head freely to monitor threat-filled skies, ending his military flight status, but abandoning the other pilots of his squadron in the dangers of Viet Nam wracked him with terrible guilt. During painful, boring interminable days of physical therapy, he missed flying so badly it made him physically ill.

Eventually he regained enough movement to resume normal activities but the dull aches never subsided and changes in weather pressure intensified his discomfort. Slowly the comfort of drinks after work became a siren song that drew his attention away from a loving young wife and an adoring little son. As years went on, his pent-up anger was turned on them.

The airline pilot career Edwin had dreamt of evaporated, replaced by barber shears and razors in his uncle's shop. He was skillful enough and an entertaining talker whose customers loved his artful hair- cuts, but it wasn't the brilliant widely-acknowledged, stimulating, travel-filled future he'd envisioned with Marianne and Seeley. When Jared came along, the pressures of finance and family made his frustrations even worse.

Over and over, he'd resolve never to bully them again, but repeated relapses only added to the guilt and anguish he tried to douse with drink. Eventually he came to hate himself so much he detested the adoration he saw in the eyes of his little sons and sought to wipe it from their faces. His cycle of sorrowful remorse, tearful promises and broken vows to act with kindness and love tied his gut and heart into unbreakable knots. His family bore the brunt of his self-loathing. In the end his own father had decreed him no longer welcome nor worthy of home.

Holding Brennan's hand, Booth scanned the jungle vegetation as intently as he had watched for sniper targets. The helicopter's plexiglass windshield and side windows gave him a wide view of the countryside but no hints as to where his father's last military engagement had once occurred. Heaving a deep sigh, the agent resigned himself to knowing he'd been in country where his dad had served, if not the detailed specifics. It would have to be enough.

Once their chopper landed, Brennan went into action, conferring with her forensic colleagues and the Vietnamese scientists who welcomed her expertise. She silently inspected their excavations, notes and the specimens already collected; then turned back toward the waiting officials with a nod of approval.

"Your observance of dig protocols, gathering techniques, and detailed notations are exceptional. You're to be commended for the pains and care you have taken to recover and document these human remains. Thank you for granting our service men such respect, esteem and honor. I realize they were once your enemies, yet you have accorded them the same recognition and reverence you would give your own war dead. You have granted our nation a great kindness in handling these human remains with dignity and deference."

Then she donned an apron, pulled on exam gloves, and picked up the nearest bone fragment. Booth watched as she turned it gently in her hand; feeling, sensing, listening to its message that only she could hear. He observed her careful examination as he had so many times, realizing once again that her methods reminded him of how loving parents treat their children, the same way she touched and cared for Parker, Christine, and Hank.

The remains of his former comrades stood in for Edwin Booth. Skeletal fragments, uniform scraps, broken wristwatches, and scarred leather wallets lay spread out and labelled on Brennan's portable examination tables. These mute bits of military life would speak again when his partner finished her painstaking scrutiny and meticulous notes.

His Bones was so thorough, perceptive, and knowledgeable that these service men would be identified and restored to their relatives if it was humanly possible. The closure she gained for them would suffice for him as well. His Veterans Day quest for answers about his dad was as complete as he could hope for.

**A/N: I'm well aware that my assumptions about army command and unit structure may be very 'off' but fan fiction readers are unusually forgiving of reality-bending details which I greatly appreciate.**


End file.
